


Friends On The Other Side

by missingnowrites



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon Summoning, Demon!Ryan, Fortune Telling, Friendship, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Tarot, demon!Geoff, demon!Jeremy, demon!michael, witch!Gavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-12 02:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19219723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnowrites/pseuds/missingnowrites
Summary: Gavin has friends! He does! They're just... not your usual crowd.AKA in which Gavin gets sacrificed for demon summonings on the regular, but it's alright, the demons are real friendly once you know them.





	Friends On The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to Thomas Sanders' [Disney Villains Mash-Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SeKbDldza9k) on repeat while writing Cat's Eye and ch3 of Replacement, and then... this happened.

The fading light of dusk shone through the boarded-up windows of the attic, shadows falling over the runes etched into the floor. Gavin squinted, trying to make them out. It was impossible to get a clear picture in the low light, though. The wooden boards creaked, and Gavin glanced up at his captor. Timothy, back from college for the summer, used to be two years ahead of him in school. Lanky, acne-ridden teen. Gavin mostly remembered him for the scandal he caused in 6th grade when he shaved half his head and pierced his tongue.

“So, uh. Timmy, was it? Can I call you Timmy?”

Timothy didn’t even acknowledge him, going around the attic and lighting black candles. The smell of sandalwood started to permeate the air. Gavin shifted, straining against the ropes tying his hands behind the central support pillar. He stood smack dab in the middle of the runic circle and had a pretty good guess at where this was going.

“Timmy, look. I don’t know what’s going on with you, Timmy, but, well. This doesn’t seem like the best solution, right?”

The flickering candlelight made it a bit easier to recognize some of the runes. Enough to guess at their purpose. Connection to the Nine Hells, that bit over there, though Gavin wasn’t sure which dimension Timothy was aiming for. At second glance, he wasn’t sure Timothy knew either.

“I mean, I can make a guess, based on the…” Gavin trailed off, nodding towards the floor. Timothy lit incense next, then pricked his finger and squeezed out three drops of blood. Gavin had almost narrowed it down, which book he got the ritual from, when Timothy bowed his head to chant. Tension rose in the air, making the hairs on his arms and neck standing on end.

He could taste the Power, old and heavy, viscous like honey down the back of his throat-

Then Timothy tossed a lit matchstick into the circle, landing at Gavin’s feet. Oil he wasn’t even aware of caught on fire, burning a lopsided pentagram into the floor, connecting five runes. Gavin squawked, startled, flinching back from where the flames came terrifyingly close to his feet.

“Timmy, don’t you think this is a bit much, Timmy?”

His gaze flicked between the connected symbols - seventh hell to the south-east, a rune of power across from it, then… water? It didn’t make the most sense, fire was always better when calling on demons, or earth for protection and grounding, but what did he know? Timothy kept chanting in badly pronounced Latin, the smoke rising into a foggy screen between them. Gavin squinted as his eyes watered, scrunching up his nose at the smell.

A shape flickered in the corner of his eye, there and gone again. The smoke darkened as Timothy’s voice rose to a fever pitch, solidifying to Gavin’s left, close to the hell rune. It freed Gavin’s line of sight on his captor, and he had to bite back a snort. Timothy looked ridiculous, arms raised high and head thrown back as if in ecstasy.

“I summon thee, son of Lucifer! In the name of Balthazar, arise!”

The dark smoke wrapped around Gavin in shadowy tendrils, glowing red coals staring back at him like eyes. Figured that _this_ particular demon was attracted to Timothy’s dramatics.

Alright, alright, let’s pause and back up a bit.

Witchstone was a small, unimportant town slightly north of Stonehenge. They had their fair share of tourists passing through, but no attractions to tempt them to stay. It also, unbeknownst to most, sat smack dab on a leyline. Probably why his grandma insisted on raising her family here after his grandfather died an early death. She had always been sensitive to the magic of the world, and in the vicinity of Stonehenge, the veil was rather thin.

This in turn meant, demons? Much easier to summon than elsewhere.

There were a handful of specific demons that hogged the phone line to Witchstone, metaphorically speaking. And Gavin was familiar with all of them. Case in point: Ryan. Probably a theatre nerd in a former life, potentially involved with Shakespeare back in the day. A total diva and Drama Queen™. Not that ‘Ryan’ was his real name - names had power, after all. But it was what he asked Gavin to call him, so.

The black smoke wound around Gavin, enveloping his hands, brushing over his chest, his legs. The ropes dissolved, and Gavin kept very, very still, watching Timothy staring at the summoned demon with rapture. As Ryan pulled away, Gavin slumped against the pillar, feeling winded. Ryan wouldn't kill him, but that didn’t change the fact Timothy chose to power through him.

Red eyes turned to Timothy, and an eerie voice echoed through the attic, like a wail rebounding through a canyon.

“You summoned me, human.”

“I have. I have!” Delight split Timothy’s face in half. “I’ve summoned you- thee- and… And now I command thee!”

“Is that so?” Ryan chuckled, the smoke solidifying into an almost human shape. “Is that how you think this works?”

“I brought you a sacrifice!” Timothy gestured wildly in Gavin’s direction. “That should be more than enough!”

Ryan hummed, head turning to look Gavin over. For a split second his face was almost human - ash-pale skin, ice-blue eyes and dark blond curls, familiar and reassuring. Then it was back to dramatics and glowing red coals.

“A trade has first to be agreed upon,” Ryan intoned ceremoniously, and Gavin fought the urge to roll his eyes. “What’s your name, human?”

Timothy hesitated. “I don’t have to share that with you. Just call me master.”

Ryan tilted his head, seeming to consider him. Gavin cleared his throat, deciding to speed this up. Ryan loved toying with his prey too much, they could be here all night. Gavin had work tomorrow.

“Timothy. His name is Timothy.” Both demon and summoner turned to look at him. Gavin shrugged. “What? We weren’t getting anywhere, Timmy.”

Timothy’s mouth pressed into a thin line, the corners twitching downwards. Gavin gave him an exasperated look.

“Timmy, you’re trying to trade an unwilling soul for whatever, Timmy, why wouldn’t I trade your name.”

Something sharpened in Ryan’s hazy smoke impression, his face close to human.

“What is it you wish in return for that-” Ryan’s gaze slid to Gavin. “- _unwilling soul_ you have? What is your wish, _Master_ \- your heart’s desire? Name it, and you shall have your trade.”

Timothy licked his lips, gaze darting between Gavin and the demon. Then he squared his shoulders and set his chin.

“There is… There is this girl…”

Gavin closed his eyes in resignation as Timothy stumbled through his tale of a broken heart, of rejection and obsession because _of course_. The average person didn’t go this far to summon a demon just for kicks, no. That was reserved for those full of spite and desperation, and Timothy had both in spades. Shame, that.

“I just- I want her to see _me_. The _real_ me.” Timothy stared imploringly at the demon of smoke and glowing red eyes. “Then- then she’ll _see_. Why she should be with me. What she’s missing.”

“You wish to trade one immortal soul for the chance with a girl,” Ryan summarized thoughtfully. “For her to see your… true self?”

“Yes!” Timothy leaned closer, desperate, feverish in his excitement. “If she could just _see_ , she’ll-”

“Very well. You shall have your trade.”

Timothy swayed, the words shocking him out of his rambling. His eyes were fixed on glowing red coals, his face pale and sweaty, his voice tentative as he asked. “You will give me all I desire?”

“I will give you this trade. A soul for this girl’s eyes to be opened to the truth.” Ryan smiled. A trap. “If you agree, that is.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I want!” Timothy stood so close his shoes smeared the chalk of the circle. Gavin opened his eyes and watched, resigned to this stupidity. Even if Timothy succeeded, his deal wouldn’t have the effect he wished. His obsession was blinding him to the truth, though, and Ryan had no compunction about using that to his advantage.

“Deal,” Ryan agreed, grin full of sharp teeth. He held out his hand, hovering just on the edge of the circle. Timothy hesitated before reaching out and clasping his hand.

“Deal.”

They shook hands, but us Timothy went to pull back, the demon didn’t let go. Instead his grin widened, his form wavering, all smoke and mirror except for that terrible, terrible grin fixed in space. He pulled and Timothy stumbled into the runic circle, his last protection falling apart.

“What-” he pressed out, eyes widening.

“Welcome, Timothy,” Ryan intoned, and his voice was the crackling of fire. “Welcome to Hell.”

“No,” Timothy gasped, tugging on his arm, struggling to get free. “No, no, no, _no_! I gave you him!”

“Timmy, you never specified which unwilling soul, Timmy,” Gavin tutted, crossing his arms now that the farce was over. “Bit of an oversight, that.”

The last thing he saw was the dawning look of horror on Timothy’s face, before Ryan - still cackling - dragged him away.

 

* * *

 

Gavin opened his shop two hours late the morning after, feeling like shit. The familiar scent of drying herbs greeted him, still fresh enough to smell intense. He opened a window in the back, to let the lingering staleness out and a breeze in. Usually he didn’t expect a lot of unannounced customers during the day, most of his regulars calling ahead for him to pack up their purchases and order anything he didn’t have readily available.

Columbo was waiting for him on the counter, as if she was guarding the register. Gavin scratched behind her ear in greeting as he went about getting the shop ready.

The old radio was playing in the background, the upbeat tune of a new pop song that played at least twice a day, or whenever Gavin turned the radio. Which he very specifically hadn’t today, fighting a headache after having his life force nearly sacrificed against his will last night. Not that every summoning was that exhausting, but Timothy had truly went about it like an amateur.

 

_And now I’m in trouble_

_Sold my soul to the devil_

_But I’m fine_

_Gotta believe I’ll be fine_

 

Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to look. In the corner of his shop stood a man, perusing a shelf full of pre-packaged teas. His dark hair was mussed up like he dragged his fingers through it often, his beard wild and not well taken care of. His rolled up sleeves revealed intricate tattoos that seemed to change every time you looked. Not an optical illusion or trick of the light but something much, much more eldritch. Gavin knew better than to focus on them.

 

_Went down to Georgia, came back with a deal_

_Took off some time_

_Don’t really know how to feel_

_But I’m fine_

 

“Geoff.” His voice came out as a croak, and he cleared his dry throat.  “Geoff, why.”

Geoff shrugged. “I like this song. Reminds me of old times.”

There was a fifty-fifty chance the singer made a deal to get famous, and if so, Gavin gave it eighty percent probability that Geoff was somehow involved. He let it go.

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead, double-checking he had enough change in the register.

 

_Played me like a fiddle_

_A snowball’s chance in hell_

_But for his trick I fell_

_Yes I’m fine_

_I’m just fine_

 

“A little birdy told me you found yourself in trouble. Again.”

Gavin didn’t look at Geoff, the reprimand clear enough in his voice without facing the accusatory finger waggle. Geoff despite all his pretense of the opposite was a worrywart, and he’d gotten in the habit of checking on Gavin. According to him the human couldn’t be trusted to take care of himself, and if he wanted to see his end of the bargain fulfilled, he had to make sure the human remained unharmed. Gavin rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been kidnapped!” Geoff squawked, throwing up his hands and giving up on the pretense of perusing his wares. “For the third time this _month_!”

 

_But I’m fine_

 

“And Ryan got a kick out of it, I’m sure.”

“You couldn’t know it’d be Ryan who answered the summons.”

Geoff crossed his arms. Gavin sighed, hopping on top of the counter and letting his legs dangle.

“If he hadn’t it would’ve been you. Or Jack.”

Geoff narrowed his eyes and pointed at him. “It could’ve been Alfredo and Trevor.”

Gavin shrugged. “Then we would’ve made a night of it. I’m _fine_ , Geoff.”

Geoff grimaced but stopped arguing. His brow furrowed and he turned his back on Gavin, pacing through the shop. Gavin ignored him, hopping down from the counter and checking his calendar. Three packages for pick up today. He’d already packed them, ready to go behind the counter. The shelves were fully stocked, though, and he wanted to give Geoff some space, so he busied himself double checking the packages’ contents against his list.

He’d moved on to taking inventory, noting what products he needed to order for next week, when Geoff stopped in front of him with a frown.

“You need more friends,” the demon declared. Gavin arched a brow.

“I have you guys.”

“ _Human_ friends. Trustworthy friends,” Geoff stressed, folding his arms. “Friends on this side who don’t kidnap you.”

“Right.”

Gavin averted his eyes. Dan was still on tour elsewhere, and his parents both moved away after the divorce. He didn’t really have friends or family in town, not since his grandmother died.

Something softened in Geoff’s expression.

“You need to go out more.”

“Maybe,” Gavin agreed, fidgeting with his pen. He lifted his head. “If I promise to go out this Friday, will you leave well enough alone?”

Geoff narrowed his eyes, his mouth twisting in suspicion. “If you actually go.”

“You want to trade promises?” Gavin asked, half-amused and half-joking. Except Geoff tilted his head, honestly considering it. Gavin rolled his eyes. “I’ll go, I’ll go. Promise.”

“You better.”

 

* * *

 

“You that witch from Witchstone?”

The bar was filled with noise, from the crowd and live music both. They were playing some popular Irish shanty and the crowd sang along.

“Depends on why you’re asking,” Gavin answered, glancing towards the bar. Jeremy was chatting up the bartender, but Michael was watching him with sharp eyes. “If you want to kidnap me to summon a demon, please wait until next month. My friends are getting… clingy.”

The woman startled, giving him a surprised look. She looked about his age, maybe a bit younger, late to mid-twenties. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a loose knot, and she was biting her lips.

“That happen often?”

“More often than they’d like,” Gavin admitted with a rueful smile. “What can I do for you, love?”

“I… have a question,” the woman said slowly, shifting her weight. “I was hoping- That is- Blokes like you pretend to have all the answers, right?”

“Not quite, but go on.”

“There is someone- some _thing_ I’m looking for, but I’m not sure where to start.” She shrugged, glancing about awkwardly. Her friends a couple tables down waved. “So I thought, fuck it, y’know? Might as well ask the mystical mumbo jumbo guy.”

“Well, looks like you’ve come to the right place,” a loud voice exclaimed and the woman flinched. Michael shouldered his way through the crowd and set a beer in front of Gavin. “He’s the best mystic there is round here.”

“Thanks, boi.” Gavin took a sip of his beer while Michael slid into the booth to sit to his left and Jeremy popped up on his right. Like sharks sensing prey in the water. Gavin shook his head and pulled out his tarot cards.

“I can read your future,” Gavin offered, shuffling through the deck of cards. Pulled one, showed the guy. The Hierophant. “Might even be able to change a thing or two, for the right price.”

The woman hesitated, a skeptical look on her face. Jeremy propped his head on his palm and smiled slyly up at her.

“Trust me, buddy. He’s the real deal.”

On his other side, Michael chuckled.

The woman didn’t look convinced but took a seat, the tension in her shoulders easing. Gavin eyed her idly as he continued shuffling. Looking for love? Some sign to up and leave?

The woman glanced back at her friends nervously. A dare, perhaps? But no, they were watching out for her, not seeing if she accepted a challenge. She cleared her throat.

“I’m looking for my sister,” she said, slow and haltingly, avoiding his gaze. “I- can you tell me where she is? Is she safe?”

Gavin kept the question in mind as he shuffled the cards and spread the pattern. With each card he could feel Jeremy and Michael on either side of him, a beat of power in tune with his heart. Gavin breathed in and felt that same power leave him on the exhale. Closing his eyes he flipped the cards, one by one.

Eight of Wands. Wheel of Fortune, reversed.  Five of Pentacles. The Tower, reversed. Two of Cups, also reversed.

Across the table the woman gasped, hands clasped in front of her mouth. He opened his eyes, felt the haze of power settle over him.

“The Tower does not have to be death,” he murmured and felt Jeremy lean closer. “It stands for change, dramatic change, but it depends on the context. Reversed like this, it often stands for an averted disaster.”

She reached out, shaking fingers hovering above the cards but not daring to touch them.

“Then- my sister, is she…?”

“She’s alive, but not safe.” Gavin met her eyes squarely. “To answer your other question, I can’t tell where. She’s moving too fast.”

“A train,” Jeremy muttered, studying the cards over Gavin’s shoulder. “Or perhaps a plane.”

Gavin nodded. The woman swallowed, looking down and pulling back, her hands folded in her lap.

“What… What else can you tell me?”

Gavin eyed her, taking in her determined expression, then nodded. He pointed at the first card in the pattern, tracing the well-worn corner.

“The Eight of Wands stands for movement, rapid actions, quick decisions. It signals the end of a long journey, sudden news, a positive growth.” His finger moved on to the next card. “But combined with the Wheel of Fortune in reverse… It symbolizes bad luck. Your sister has been followed by misfortune, stuck in a situation she had no control over. The decision to leave was sudden - but she made the choice herself.”

The woman shuddered, hugging herself. Gavin paused, giving her a moment to digest, before continuing.

“The Five of Pentacles indicates a deep loneliness, illness or loss. Whatever your sister’s situation is right now, it’s about to take a turn for the worse.” He pointed at the Tower card next. “Since the Tower is in reverse, this likely means a looming disaster your sister is aware of and struggling to avert. But in the end, the Tower _will_ fall.”

Jeremy was a reassuring weight against his side, and under the table, Michael pressed their legs close. It made it easier to ignore the despair growing on the other side of the table.

“The Two of Cups, reversed.” Gavin hesitated. “It stands for imbalance, broken communication, and tension. Whatever your sister is fleeing... she doesn’t think she can tell anyone.” Gavin looked up from studying the card. “Your sister ran away from home, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” the woman gasped, arms tightening around her. “No one knows where she went. We can’t contact her - she left her phone behind.”

“I’ll be honest with you, love.” Gavin licked his lips, eyes roaming over the cards, but their meaning remained the same. “It’s not looking good for her.”

“What… what can I do?”

“Would you like to change her fate?” Gavin asked, gentling his voice. Still the woman looked up sharply at his words. “Beware, though, it will cost you dearly.”

“You can- Can you- How…” For the first time since the reading, the woman glanced back at her friends. “Can you make sure she’s safe?”

At that Michael stirred, sitting forward.

“Everything is possible,” he said, a shit-eating grin stretching across his face, “if you’re willing to pay the prize.”

Suspicion entered her gaze. Her arms dropped and her nails dug into her skirt.

“I want certainty.”

Michael tilted his head, a hungry look in his eyes that Gavin was too familiar with.

“There’s several things you could trade for that. A certainty for a certainty…” Michael hummed. “Give me the certainty that you’ll never hear from your sister again, and I will make certain that no man or machine made by man shall ever harm her again.”

“How can I be certain she is safe if I don’t hear from her?” The woman bit out, eyes narrowing. Her focus was entirely on Michael now, Jeremy and Gavin forgotten. “She might as well be dead by those words!”

“True.” Michael’s lips curled into a smile. “A different one, then. Certainty that your sister will return home, return to your family, eventually, for the certainty of making your own family.”

“‘Making a family’ is too broad a term.” The woman bit her lip, contemplating the offer. “The certainty of finding love in a man, for my sister’s safe return.”

She held out her hand. Michael’s grin widened, showed teeth, as he reached out and shook it.

“Deal.”

The power rose in pitch around them, lashing out and wrapping around her arm, crawling over her skin and into her chest. Her eyes shone green for a heartbeat, and then she blinked, and everything returned back to normal. She stood up on shaky legs, grabbing the back of the chair for balance. Only then did she look back at Gavin.

“What- what do I owe you?”

She gestured at the cards lying on the table, the reading he had done for her and the deal he’d basically facilitated. Gavin didn’t ask her name. It wouldn’t be fair, with two demons at his side. Besides, she’d made her trade already.

“How ‘bout you buy us a round of drinks, love, and we call it even?”

 

* * *

 

When he woke the next morning with a hammering headache in his own bed and no recollection of making it home, he was quite grateful for having friends. Even if they were friends from the other side - and blanket thieves, as well. At least their bodies ran hotter than a furnace, keeping him warm and comfortable sandwiched between them.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics were made up, I wrote them myself for the fic, and not part of the disney mash-up. I imagine it very melancholy country song though with a dash of jazz.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome! Thanks for reading.


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